Page 324 of Devil’s Disciples

The breath shot from her lungs. Our eyes met. Seemingly unaffected by my savage advance, she held my gaze. Her eyes said what she was obviously afraid to.

My palm raced the length of her inner thigh, taking the hem of her dress with it in the process. My knuckles slammed to a stop against the thin wet fabric that separated me from fulfilling my desire.

My dick twitched in her hand.

Her eyes fluttered, and then fell closed.

In one sharp tug, I pulled her panties to mid-thigh. I held her crumpled dress against her waist and lowered myself to my knees. While I studied the perfection of her naked lower half, I released her breast from my grasp and reached for the crimson lace.

Clutching her panties in my fist, I touched my nose to her skin and drew a slow breath. She smelled like an array of flowers, each of which gave off its own crisp aroma. A hint of gardenias, peonies, and orange blossoms tickled my senses.

Driven by a desire entrenched deep within my soul, I licked her sweet-tasting pussy with a fervor unmatched by anything I’d experienced in my thirty-two years.

I circled her swollen clit with the tip of my tongue. The stone corridor filled with the soft sound of her moans.

I slid a finger into her with ease. I added another. Her moans deepened. Flicking my tongue against her swollen nub, I jacked my fingers wildly, sucking and licking as I fingered her into a frenzy. After bringing her to near climax, I leaned away.

Kneeling before her with my face covered in her pleasure, I gazed upward.

She peered into my eyes. Her face was painted with desire.

Incapable of waiting another second to feel myself inside her, I turned her to face the wall and shoved her against it. I pushed my slacks to mid-thigh and pressed my hips against her bare ass. With my throbbing cock in my fist, I guided the tip against her wet folds. Then, in one animalistic shove, I sank my entire length deep within her.

An unsteady breath escaped her.

I gripped her waist firmly. With my chest against her back and the side of my face pressed to hers, I pounded myself into her tight confines. With each emotional thrust, her feet lifted from the floor.

The fragrance of jasmine permeated from her skin.

With every powerful stroke, a grunt catapulted from my lungs. Each carried with it an ounce of the frustration that was bottled within me. Hoping to cleanse myself of everything the grief of his death brought with it, I fucked her as if she would be my last.

My hips slammed into her, forcing her against the wall again, and again. She gave no objection, accepting my forceful offering without complaint.

Completely lost in the euphoria of mind-numbing sex, I closed my eyes and continued. The walls of her vagina tightening around my shaft snatched me from my dream-like state. The sound of the muffled voice from the adjacent room was replaced by her moaning.

A sense of erotic satisfaction inched its way into the void left in my heart by my brother’s absence. Soon, it encompassed me, filling my wounds completely. Driven in part by her willingness to comply and partially by her undeniable beauty, my strokes became rhythmic and predictable.

My cock swelled. She moaned deeply. I pushed my entire length into her and held my position firmly. She arched her back and opened her mouth wide. Her pleasure echoed along the surface of the stone walls, carrying with it the threat of exposure.

I stuffed her panties into her open mouth, muffling her from making another decipherable sound.

Her muted groans continued as I pumped my pleasure into her. As the last drop shot from the tip of my satisfied cock, her body shuddered, and then relaxed.

She was exactly what I needed. Satisfied beyond words, I situated myself, brushed the wrinkles from my slacks, and reached for the door’s brass handle.

Door handle in hand, I admired her. A sense of satisfaction washed over me knowing that I was the one who took her from primped perfection to a half-dressed disheveled beauty.

“Brother Goose…” A hand gripped me firmly. “Brother Goose. You’re up.”

I blinked. Somewhat confused as to what had or hadn’t transpired, I glanced over my shoulder. With unkempt hair and a flush face, she was in her seat with her blue eyes fixed on me.

I offered a muted smile.

She looked like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Even so, she managed to smile in return.

I stumbled to the stage and scanned the crowd. Although all had come from different walks of life, one common thread was woven between each of us.

Porter “Ghost” Reeves had touched our lives.